So, I wrote this story late last year because it was Christmas at Lagos and I just felt like writing the story. So, I ended up writing it, and I put it away for a while. I’ve started editing it and I should hopefully be sending it to a beta reader so. When it’s all ready, I should be sending it to a publishing house for hopeful publication. Will fill you guys in on how things go.
For today, here’s the snippet. And as is my usual refrain, please ignore any typos or grammatical inconsistencies as this is a rough draft:
She smiled at that and continued to speak, using her hands to further emphasize her points like she always did. “I’d nearly passed her stall when she called me back and said she’d been keeping this chicken for me…” she hit the chicken in the belly and I felt the pain in my gut. The poor bird. It still didn’t make any sound. Just kept watching…me. Strange bird. I wonder what it could see when it was hanging upside down like that. Probably me. Standing upside down.
Thinking about it was starting to make my heard hurt so I turned my mind back to Ivie and the tail end of her chicken acquisition story.
“So she told me to have a Merry Christmas and take the chicken and have it fried for the family on Christmas day…”
“Him,” I corrected automatically. I pointed at the obvious red come. “He’s a he.”
Ivie hissed. “As I was saying, when I wanted to pay, she said I could have it for free,” she emphasized the ‘it’ like she was trying to prove a point and gave me the look to say anything if I dared. Luckily enough, my sense of self-preservation was still in tact so I kept mum. She nodded when she confirmed that I wasn’t going to say anything else and continued. “Free I tell you,” she squealed the last bit, clapping her hands together at her supposed good fortune. I looked up again at the chicken. Poor thing didn’t have any good fortune. See him, tied up waiting to have his throat slit, then dipped into boiling hot water before having his magnificent feathers plucked off. A majestic bird and he was going to die, just like that.
“Now all that’s left is for you to kill it and I can get to cooking it.”
I nodded my head, my mind still on the poor bird when her words sank in. I’m sure my eyes widened because there’s no way my eyes would hurt so much and Ivie look so wide if they hadn’t increased to double their normal size. I took a step back for good measure.
“Not happening.”
Ivie just gave me the not-even-going-to-bother-arguing-look and continued speaking like I’d not said anything. “You don’t need to cut it soon. Just in five days for Christmas morning. Till then, we feed it to make sure it’s even bigger when it’s time to eat it.”
Righhhhhht. Now I feel so much better. Feed the chicken long enough so he can taste even better when we murder him.
“Drop that look,” Ivie snapped. “I don’t see you giving up beef either,” she pointed out as she walked past me to the entryway that led into the living room area.
How she could compare both I didn’t understand. I don’t have cows living in my house days on end whilst I fed them and cleaned up after them, all the while looking into their eyes as I thought about killing them. I was sure if I’d lived on a farm, I probably would have become a vegetarian.
Alessandra Ebulu 